A Midnight Snack
by Elisabeth Daniels
Summary: Aragorn gets up for a midnight snack and the twins recount one of his more embarassing moments.


Here's an attempt a short, slightly humerous, quite fluffy fanfic.   
  
Hope you enjoy.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone, anything, or anyplace from Middle   
  
Earth as much as it pains me to admit it. They all come from the   
  
marvously creative brain of J.R.R. Tolkien. I'm just borrowing a few   
  
of them for fun, that's all.  
  
Rated: G....no blood, no guts, nothing but a little embarassment.  
  
Beta: Iridia....thanks so much for staying up late and helping me   
  
edit it all...and helping me find out those interesting little facts.  
  
A/N: I wrote this in a desperate need to leave behind my world for a   
  
bit, and was encouraged by a friend to do some writing, so I just let   
  
my mind wander. Any mistakes are mine. And any incongruities are   
  
also mine.   
  
A Midnight Snack  
  
by Elisabeth Daniels  
  
Strider sat abruptly up in bed. The soft warm blankets fell away,   
  
leaving his upper body open to the chilly winter wind that blew   
  
through the partially opened window. Since the winter had been   
  
exceptionally mild, he had left the window open a crack in order to   
  
remove the stuffiness that the room had obtained in his absence; but   
  
now the winter chill had once more returned. A layer of frost covered   
  
tree, grass and building alike. The heavy grey clouds blanketing the   
  
sky promised snow before the morning was over. Grimacing slightly as   
  
his bare feet touched the cold stone floor, he left the warmth of bed   
  
to close the window.   
  
Standing before the window, a strange--but not unfamiliar--sensation   
  
gnawed at his belly as a loud, gurgling growl emitted from his   
  
midsection. Hunger seemed to be attacking the young ranger. It was,   
  
in fact, the same call that had awoken him moments earlier from an   
  
otherwise peaceful sleep. Determined not to be ruled by his stomach,   
  
Strider once more returned to bed.   
  
Buried up to his neck in the blankets which had graced his bed since   
  
childhood, Strider tried to find a comfortable resting position.   
  
First on his back. Then, his side. Stomach. Fetal position. Each   
  
sleep pose offered no comfort, only the reminder of the gnawing   
  
sensation from the depths of his belly. This was ridiculous--he had   
  
eaten dinner, albeit not an overly large one, but a sufficient one.   
  
The tossing and turning continued for another half hour. Rebelling   
  
against his desires, his stomach continued to remind him of its   
  
craving for food with overly loud, obnoxious groans.   
  
Finally he could take no more. His stomach would not cease its   
  
complaints 'til he had fed it. "Besides," he murmured to   
  
himself, "if it keeps this up, no one else will be able to sleep, and   
  
my brothers and Legolas will never let me hear the end of it."  
  
As stealthily as possible, Strider once more slipped from bed and   
  
into the dark tunic he had worn the previous day, over the pair of   
  
trousers he had worn to bed. Despite the floor's chill, he went   
  
barefoot; he would be more silent this way.   
  
Creeping from his room in a manner worthy of the elves he was   
  
determined to avoid, Strider stole down to the kitchen.   
  
A few embers still burned in the large cooking hearth. The smell of   
  
the previous day's baking elicited another ravenous growl from his   
  
stomach. "Shh," he commanded the rebellious internal organ.   
  
Peering around the various tables and counters, Strider noticed a   
  
towel-draped tray. Carefully peeling back the edge of the towel, he   
  
revealed a much-desired treat. A stack of freshly fried pastries   
  
seemed to be calling his name. Without hesitation, Strider grabbed   
  
one--no, two--of the delicious-smelling pastries. They were round,   
  
with holes in their centers, and covered with a soft white sugar. He   
  
had not had doughnuts since he was a little boy. Eagerly he began   
  
eating the treat as he made his way to the hearth. Even though he was   
  
rather enjoying the snack, his feet were still bare, and the few last   
  
warm embers were much more inviting than the frigid stone floor.   
  
Strider's stomach seemed to agree with the doughnuts, for it made no   
  
more complaints as he began on the second doughnut. About halfway   
  
through the pilfered sweet, the ranger heard footsteps in the hall   
  
outside the kitchen. As the door opened, Strider stuffed the rest of   
  
the pastry into his mouth.   
  
"There you are, Estel," remarked one of the intruders. It was   
  
Elladan. "What are you doing here?"  
  
Elrohir nudged his brother--and Legolas who had also entered the   
  
kitchen. "Isn't it obvious? He came for a late night's snack."  
  
"Oh, yes," Elladan examined his youngest brother. "I see obvious   
  
traces of powdered sugar on that tunic of his, and crumbs around his   
  
lips."  
  
Desperately trying to deny the all too obvious fact, Strider   
  
vigorously shook his head and attempted to swallow the remaining   
  
chunk of doughnut in his mouth.   
  
Elladan and Elrohir, deeply amused by Estel's ridiculous attempts at   
  
concealing his crime, surrounded him. They were followed by the   
  
curious Legolas.   
  
"Dear brother, don't think we don't know what you're doing." Elladan   
  
sat down next to Estel. "I'm afraid you forgot this isn't the first   
  
time we've caught you down here when you ought to be in bed."  
  
Finally able to swallow the doughnut, Estel stared wide-eyed at his   
  
brother. His face began to take on quite a stunning shade of red.   
  
"I believe there is a story behind this brilliant response," Legolas   
  
remarked as calmly as if they had been discussing the details behind   
  
shipping prices, or the method of fletching an arrow; but the twinkle   
  
in his eyes told a different story.   
  
"Oh, yes," Elrohir took his place on the other side of Estel. With   
  
the help of Elladan, the elves restrained the human as he attempted   
  
to quickly bolt from the room. "Have a seat, Legolas; you're in for a   
  
story of young Estel."  
  
"You know, Estel, your brothers never cease to have some tale of your   
  
childhood antics." Legolas smiled mischievously at the other   
  
elves. "Please, I think we all could use a good bedtime story."  
  
"When Estel was about 15 and in the middle of a growth spurt, he   
  
couldn't stop eating," began Elrohir.   
  
"Ada would often tease him about eating us out of house and home,"   
  
commented Elladan. "Estel must have grown about six inches that year,   
  
and he was a bit clumsy with his ever-growing gangly limbs."  
  
Estel shot visual daggers at his brothers and Legolas. He knew where   
  
this story was going.   
  
"We couldn't sleep half of the time that year, because this ravenous   
  
beast of a human couldn't keep his stomach quiet."   
  
"It wasn't my fault!" Estel tried to defend himself, but he was   
  
definitely outnumbered.   
  
"So that's what that odd gurgling sound was this evening." Legolas   
  
looked as if he had never been hungry in his life--which was, of   
  
course, untrue.  
  
The red faced-human turned an even deeper shade as the twins   
  
continued with their reminiscence.   
  
"Finally, after months of keeping us awake, the little imp decided he   
  
would take care of the problem in his own unique way. Since he was   
  
always hungry at night, Estel decided that he needed his own personal   
  
pantry in his bedroom.  
  
"But, instead of asking Ada for help with this ingenious brainstorm,   
  
he decided to raid the kitchen on his own. On this particular   
  
evening, Estel managed to trip his way down the stairs--I believe he   
  
must have determined to knock into every pot and pan hanging in the   
  
kitchen. Finally, after making enough racket to wake a den of   
  
dwarves, Estel made his way to the pantry.  
  
"Loading his arms with an assortment of snacks and food--more than he   
  
could reasonably carry, even on a good day--Estel made his way back   
  
to the stairs.  
  
"Now, Elrohir and I heard the noise and thought that there must be a   
  
horde of orcs in the kitchen--nothing else could possibly make that   
  
much noise, right?"  
  
The twins laughed quite heartily at the remembrance, but Estel could   
  
only bury his face further into his knees. Legolas did not know   
  
whether to comfort his friend or encourage the twins to continue...   
  
though the twins did not need any encouragement now that they had   
  
started.  
  
"Coming to the stairs, we saw a gangly young man carrying what   
  
appeared to be half the pantry. As he reached the stairs, the low   
  
rumble of a starved stomach moaned loudly. Surprised and naturally   
  
clumsy at this point in his life, Estel missed the first stair.   
  
"Kersplat, he fell. Food flew everywhere. Well, that is, the food   
  
that Estel didn't manage to land himself in. He was covered from head   
  
to toe with various food scraps.   
  
"He was truly a site to behold. Pudding was smeared across his face.   
  
Frosting and cake hung in clumps in his tangled hair. His tunic was   
  
decorated with crumbs, and some sort of meat sauce. It looked as   
  
though he were wearing the next night's dinner!  
  
"A shade of red slightly lighter than the one we managed to get from   
  
him tonight spread across his face. Without a moment to lose, Estel   
  
dashed up the stairs, past us, and into his room.  
  
"After we were able to control our laughter, Elladan and I cleaned up   
  
the mess and left it as a present for Estel in his room."  
  
The twins finally released Estel from their hold. As quick as Legolas   
  
had ever seen Strider move, he stood and stepped away from the   
  
fireplace. Attempting to regain a calm he did not feel, Strider   
  
glared at his brothers. "Thank you for that painful reminder.   
  
Sometime I'll have to tell Legolas about the time you two tried to   
  
poison the entire hunting party with that stew you made!" With that   
  
remark, Strider dashed out of the kitchen, leaving the three elves   
  
behind.  
  
"Poisoned the stew?" Legolas peered quizzically at the twins.  
  
It was their turn to turn red. "It was a mistake, really," Elladan   
  
intoned.  
  
"We thought we were picking angelica--it's quite tasty--but instead,   
  
we found water hemlock; that's all." Elrohir started pacing towards   
  
the other side of the kitchen.  
  
"That's all? That herb is known as children's bane, death-of-man.   
  
You're insane." Legolas paused for a moment. "Well, you are all still   
  
living. But you're the sons of Lord Elrond--the best healer in all of   
  
Middle Earth!--and you picked the wrong plants? No wonder Strider   
  
won't touch anything the two of you cook! This has to be a good   
  
story. I will have to have him tell me this one." Legolas laughed as   
  
the twins shuffled uncomfortably further away from the Mirkwood   
  
prince.   
  
Elrohir reached the towel-covered tray. Echoing Estel's earlier   
  
movement, he peeled back the towel's corner. "Doughnut, anyone?"  
  
"Couldn't pass them up," remarked Elladan. "Too bad Estel got to them   
  
first."  
  
The twins grabbed the entire tray and marched out of the kitchen,   
  
whispering conspiratorially between themselves, and leaving a   
  
bewildered Legolas behind. 


End file.
